Red Chrysanthemum
by Reinamy
Summary: Love comes in all shapes and sizes...and species. Modern AU.


**Title/Author:** Red Chrysanthemum _by_ Reinamy

 **Pairings:** Inuyasha/Kagome (main), Sango/Miroku

 **Rating:** PG-13 (subject to change)

 **Warnings:** Modern AU, magical realism, species disparity, ooc-ness, mature themes and language, romance-centric, etc.

 **Summary:** Love comes in all shapes and sizes...and species.

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ _This is non-profitable fan work. No copyright infringement intended._

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** I know the summary is vague but I _really_ don't want to give anything away so I'm leaving it at that. I'm super excited about posting this, guys, and I hope you all enjoy it!

This story was largely inspired by Erutan's version of the song _For the Dancing and the Dreaming_ , which I highly recommend listening to. It's really awesome.

* * *

 **RED CHRYSANTHEMUM**

 **Chapter:** **01**

* * *

He smelled it long before he saw it.

On his windowsill lay a single red flower. Frowning, Inuyasha kicked his door shut and idled towards it. He picked it up cautiously and sniffed. It smelled like a flower, nothing else. As far as he could tell, the only thing that had come into contact with it were insects. Which didn't make sense because certainly _someone_ had put it there. Flowers didn't just magically appear in one's bedroom.

He looked around in suspicion, unsettled by what his nose was telling him. No one had entered his bedroom since he'd left it nearly six hours ago. A quick inspection of the window revealed that it, too, had been untouched. The lock was still secured, there were no prints on the glass, and the only scent he could detect was his own.

 _What the hell?_ He thought as he stared at the suspicious item between his claws. It seemed normal enough. He couldn't recall its name—no surprise there—but he was sure he'd seen similar ones elsewhere. He just couldn't place it.

Inuyasha scrutinized the many crimson florets that erupted in an upswell and the thick stem with its single, drooping leaf, and dropped it onto his desk. He briefly considered tossing it into the overflowing trashcan but decided against it. If nothing else, it served as evidence that someone _had_ been in his room, and he could ask Miroku about it later.

…The fragrance it emitted wasn't altogether horrible, either.

* * *

— **+—**

Two days later, Inuyasha woke to the bittersweet smell of acorns.

His first thought was that he'd left his window open, but he vaguely remembered locking it before he went to bed. _That_ thought was enough to chase the remnants of sleep from his mind and he sat up, shoved at his covers, and swung his feet to the floor.

A sliver of moonshine was the only source of light to be had, but it was enough for his heightened sense of sight to see the outline of small objects on his window ledge. Ears twitching, he stood and closed the distance between himself and the window and stared at the neat row of acorns that adorned the wood panel. He inhaled deeply, but there was nothing incriminating about them. He checked his window, but it refused to budge, the lock twisted firmly in place.

"How in the hell…" he trailed off incredulously, eyes once again dropping to where the acorns gleamed innocently beneath the moonlight. He plucked one up, sniffed it, then squeezed. It crunched beneath his claws and the splintered pieces fell to the floor.

"It's definitely an acorn," he muttered to himself as he wiped the debris off on his pants, then twisted the lock and lifted the window. He poked his head out and searched for anomalies in the scenery. There were none; everything—the smells, the sounds, the shapes of shadows—was as it should be.

Grunting, Inuyasha snapped the window shut. He eyed the acorns, then swept them into his palm and deposited them on his desk, next to where the flower from yesterday lay.

A flower which, he noted disbelievingly, looked as fresh as it had been then.

Nothing made sense. He had half a mind to storm into Miroku's room across the hall and demand an explanation, but if the noises he'd heard earlier were anything to go by, Sango was likely with him. And Inuyasha wasn't socurious as to incite _her_ wrath.

 _I'll ask him in the morning,_ he decided before leveling another wary look at the contents of his desk and crawling into his bed.

That night, sleep was slow to come.

* * *

— **+—**

When Inuyasha woke the next morning to blinding sunlight and the smell of flowers and acorns, Miroku was long gone. He grumbled about the poor timing of monks as he scoured the kitchen for food, eventually settling on cereal and a selection of fruit. He was in the process of adding milk to the puffed rice when Sango strode into the kitchen, damp and smelling like soap, while carrying a bleary eyed kitsune in one arm.

"What's for breakfa—," Shippo broke off with a yawn.

"Whatever you're gonna make for yourself," Inuyasha grunted, studiously ignoring the brat's accusations of him being cruel.

"Morning, Inuyasha," Sango greeted before her head disappeared into the fridge, nearly knocking Shippo off her shoulder with her maneuvering. Inuyasha snickered at the brat's flailing protests and capped the milk.

"Mornin'. Oh, hey, do you know where Miroku got off to?"

"Why does everyone always assume I know where he is 24/7?" she sighed, retreating from the fridge with a carton of yogurt in hand.

"Because you usually do," Shippo piped up.

"Well I certainly don't _today,_ " Sango told them.

"Keh. Figures. Why is he never around when I actually _want_ him to be?"

"Miroku has a sixth-sense about these things," she offered, sliding into the seat opposite his. "What do you need him for, anyway? Anything I can help with?"

Chewing messily, Inuyasha thought about it. For some reason, whenever Inuyasha needed insight into something regarding the preternatural, he looked to Miroku for them. Probably the whole otherworldly monk-ish façade he had going on. However, when it came down to it, Sango, a licensed devil exterminator, probably knew just as much about all the species in the world. Probably more, since she wasn't likely to be distracted by a pretty face every other nanosecond.

"Don't know. Can you tell me if there's a creature that either doesn't have a scent or has the ability to conceal it, can break into someone's room without leaving physical evidence that they were there, and leaves weird objects on their windowsill?"

Sango straightened from where she'd been slicing an apple and stared at him. "Are you saying someone—or something—broke into your _room,_ Inuyasha? When was this?"

"Uh…the first time it happened was three days ago? And again last night."

"And you're only telling me about this _now_?" she said incredulously.

Inuyasha offered an embarrassed shrug. "I forgot, alright? I only remembered last night when it happened again, but it was well past midnight. I was going to wake you two up, but, well…"

It took all of three seconds for Sango to cotton onto his meaning, and she flushed and cleared her throat. "Um. Right. Well, what kind of objectsdid they leave?"

"A red flower, the first time. Last night a bunch of acorns."

Her brow furrowed, and she glanced pointedly at Shippo.

"It wasn't me!" the fox denied. "I'm not good enough yet to conceal my scent _that_ well."

"Pipsqueak has a point. I would've known it was him the second he entered my room."

"That's so strange," Sango mused, sliding the apples and a bowl of yogurt towards Shippo, who promptly stuffed a slice in his mouth, prior indignation forgotten with the appearance of food. "And they didn't take anything? Did you leave your window open?"

Inuyasha shook his head and served himself another helping of cereal. "No. I made sure nothing was missing, and my window was locked from the inside both times. And before you ask, _yes_ I checked that the stuff wasn't poisoned or anything. They were normal. _Well_ ," he backtracked, "except the flower. It's been three days and it still hasn't wilted."

Sango shrugged helplessly, looking disappointed with herself for not having an answer. "Sorry, Inuyasha, but I have no idea what it could be. You're right—Miroku is probably your best bet. I don't know where he went, but he did say he'd be back soon. Hopefully he actually meant it this time."

Inuyasha snorted. "I wouldn't hold my breath."

* * *

— **+—**

In true Miroku fashion, by the time he wandered home again the sun had already begun to set, stealing the dwindling evening light with it.

Patience worn thin, Inuyasha stomped towards the foyer, grabbed him by the arm just as he was toeing off his sandals, and dragged him into the kitchen. He ignored the stupid monk's protests and hauled him inside.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own, Inuyasha!"

"Save it," he snapped. He was feeling antsy. At Sango's request, he had stepped out to go on a grocery run in the afternoon. He hadn't even been gone two hours, but that was apparently enough time for his burglar to sneak into his room and leave _another_ present on his windowsill. What made matters worse was that he had left his door open and both Shippo _and_ Kirara had been ordered to keep an ear—and nose—on things in his absence.

And yet when he entered his room there'd been another flower on the sill. Mocking him.

Shippo thought his paranoia was unnecessary. What he didn't seem to grasp was that the objects might innocuous _now_ but that could easily change. For all Inuyasha knew, the culprit's intent could be to lure him into a false sense of security. It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried.

"What's going on?" Miroku asked when Inuyasha finally released him. He first looked at Sango, Shippo, and Kirara, who were all situated at the table, then at the objects they seemed oddly fascinated by. "Flowers?"

"Someone's been leaving stuff in Inuyasha's bedroom!" Shippo was the first to pipe up. "But they don't have a scent and we don't know how they got in, so we don't know who it is!"

"What?" he asked again. To his gratitude, Sango elaborated.

"It's pretty much as Shippo said," his fiancée told him, rolling an—was that an _acorn?_ "Some _thing's_ been breaking into Inuyasha's room and leaving _this,"_ she gestured at the oddments on the table, "on his window. Whatever it is is strong enough to conceal its presence _and_ its scent. It broke in when Shippo, Kirara, and I were here and none of us even realized until Inuyasha found _this._ " She picked up a white flower with a yellow center.

"When did it start?" Miroku glanced at Inuyasha then plucked the flower from Sango's fingers. He sniffed it, but couldn't detect anything amiss. Then again, the youkai and hanyou in the room were certain to have sensed something if there had been.

"Three days ago," Inuyasha answered shortly, folding his arms. "Then around midnight yesterday I found the acorns. And like Sango said, the white flower came today."

Miroku hummed noncommittally and studied the boon. After a moment he smirked.

"What is it?" Inuyasha demanded, stepping forward. "You _know_ something! Have you figured it out?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say…" Miroku paused dramatically and relished in the eager looks he was given. After a moment he continued, "You're being courted."

Blank expressions all around.

Inuyasha was the first to snap. "What the hell are you talking about, monk?"

"Yeah, yeah! What do you mean he's being _courted_? Isn't that what people do to the ones they like?"

"Quite right, Shippo," Miroku said cheerfully. He plopped into an empty chair and snatched the red flower. "Let me explain my reasoning. _This_ is a red chrysanthemum. Do you know what this means in the language of flowers?"

"Just get on with it already!"

"Fine, fine," Miroku rolled his eyes. "It means _I love thee._ And this," he gestured towards the white flower, "is a gardenia. Either whoever it is is trying to convey that they find you _lovely_ , or they're signifying their secret love for you."

"And the acorns?" Shippo asked, awe clear in his voice.

"Acorns symbolize life and immortality. When given, they convey a person's desire that their intended lives a long, fulfilling life. Particularly apt when you take into consideration Inuyasha's increased longevity. In various lore, it's not uncommon for acorns to be presented as gifts to immortals during their nuptials. Or as courting gifts. Either way, they represent the same thing." He slanted a sly gaze towards the scowling hanyou, " _Someone_ clearly wishes that your long, fulfilling life be spent with _them._ "

Inuyasha's eye twitched. "That is _bullshit!"_

"Oh?" Miroku quirked a brow and folded his arms, clearly enjoying being the bearer of bad news. "Do you have any other viable theories?"

Inuyasha opened his mouth, no doubt to accuse Miroku of lying, but Sango deftly interrupted him. "It does seem plausible, Inuyasha. I mean, what are the chances that _three_ of the gifts you've been given have romantic connotations?"

"Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, and thrice is a pattern," Miroku added unhelpfully.

"So someone's trying to court Inuyasha?" Shippo asked, nose scrunched like he couldn't fathom why anyone would. Miroku bit his cheek to keep from laughing. "But who? Clearly they aren't human. Not if they can fly under the radar of Sango, Kirara, _and_ me."

" _That,_ I don't know," Miroku admitted, looking apologetically at Inuyasha. "Not many beings have the ability to conceal its scent, but there are few who can, though currently none come to mind—at least, none with the ability to _also_ hide their presence to such an extent. I'll have to ask Mushin. If nothing comes up, I'll search the species archive."

"Keh. _Whatever,_ " Inuyasha snapped, ungrateful as ever, and stomped out.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Miroku called. He watched as Inuyasha faltered just as he reached the threshold, visibly wavered, then declared, "You can trash them for all I care."

"I don't think that's very wise, Inuyasha," Sango opined. She and Miroku shared looks of caution. "We have no idea _what's_ doing this, but clearly they're invested if they're going to all the trouble of _courting_ you. You might really anger them if you just toss their offerings aside."

"Agreed. It's best that you hold onto them for the time being, and whenever the admirer makes their presence known you can _gently_ _and respectfully_ reject future advances."

The indecision was clear on Inuyasha's face, but reason seemed to win out and with a frustrated huff he stalked to the table, gathered the offerings in his hands, and left, a chattering Shippo at heels. Even with his inferior ears Miroku could hear his heavy footsteps well until he entered his bedroom. He didn't blink an eye when the door slammed loudly enough to rattle the walls.

After a moment of contemplative silence, Sango leveled him with a suspicious look. "Do you _really_ not know what's been sending him all those things?"

"I only have my suspicions," he demurred serenely.

"Suspicions which you _will_ be telling me," the woman stated firmly.

"Of course, Sango dear."

* * *

— **+—**

For two weeks the offerings continued to make an appearance on his windowsill. At Miroku and Sango's insistence each was left on his desk, in clear view of the window in case the culprit wanted to make sure he was keeping them. Inuyasha _wanted_ to trash them—he knew of no better way to make his disinterest clear—but his housemates were having none of it.

It was probably a good thing, because he had a suspicion that he would just feel guilty if he gave in and tossed it all. It was all kinds of creepy and unwanted, but whoever it was _clearly_ harbored some interest in him, to Inuyasha's combined embarrassment and irritation.

And after days of receiving nothing but gifts with romantic symbolism, even Inuyasha had to relent and agree that he _was_ being courted. Most of the gifts were flowers of some sort—arbutuses, daffodils, camellias, red carnations, moss rosebuds, blue violets, roses—but there were anomalies mixed in, as if whoever it was was trying to keep things from getting boring.

Beside his growing collection of flowers—most of which weren't even in _season—_ was a ladybug trapped in a sphere of amber, a cluster of polychromatic rocks, a four-leaf clover, peach seeds, a clump of wild berries nestled in a whitebark magnolia leaf, and an assortment of herbs wrapped in leaves.

Inuyasha's room was starting to smell like a goddamn forest.

As he stripped out of his clothing and tugged pajama pants on, he grudgingly admitted to himself that it was kind of, sort of, maybe a _little tiny bit_ flattering. Sure, it was also rather stalker-ish, but obviously a lot of thought and effort had been put into the selections. Inuyasha could appreciate that, if nothing else.

For possibly the thousandth time that day he found his gaze seeking out the heap on his desk. After a moment of indecision Inuyasha snatched up the amber and tossed himself onto his bed. He bent one knee, crossed the other leg over it, and got comfortable.

The dark did nothing to conceal the ethereal quality of the stone or the tiny bug encased within. Inuyasha had to admit that it was kind of cool. As his fingers skimmed the smooth, glasslike surface he remembered what Miroku—who was taking far too much pleasure in the whole ordeal, he thought resentfully—had said about it.

Baltic amber, a symbol of life and eternity. Ladybugs, a token of luck, and in some cultures, a signifier of imminent love. " _An organic good luck charm,"_ Miroku had affirmed, and with a sly glance added, " _and an emblem of hope that their feelings might be returned."_

Inuyasha had scoffed, snatched the stone from his too-curious fingers, and stormed away, disinclined to be on the receiving end of _another_ lecture about how fortunate he was to have such a considerate and romantic admirer and what any _normal_ male would do in his place.

Frankly, Inuyasha was pretty damn sure most guys would have tossed the majority of the gifts in the trash by now. Or given them away. Flowers, stones, fruits, herbs…those weren't the kinds of things that would gain the favor of a man. Not in this day and age, where most things were dismissed if they couldn't be charged by batteries. It gave credence to his theory that the culprit _wasn't_ human, but did nothing to narrow down the list of possibilities.

It was frustrating as hell, and Inuyasha wished whoever the hell it was would just _show_ themselves already. Clearly the person, or being, didn't know him all that well. Inuyasha _hated_ being passive. He hated guessing games, hated waiting for someone _else_ to make the first move, and hated feeling like he wasn't in control.

Which was why he planned to take the initiative tonight.

Like clockwork, Inuyasha went to bed each night and found another offering on his window by morning. Not tonight. Inuyasha had decided that morning, upon discovering the blue violet, that he would put an end to the all the guessing. The plan was to feign sleep and hopefully catch the culprit unawares. Even a _glimpse_ was better than nothing.

Thoughtfully, Inuyasha rubbed the amber between his fingers. Instantly it became electrostatically charged and the fizzle of energy against his skin made him shiver. He cupped it and admired the way it felt against his hand, warm and smooth like crystalized honey. Tossed it up in the air and caught it again.

Inuyasha couldn't wait anymore. He _needed_ to know who it was.

* * *

— **+—**

A creak. So soft it was nearly inaudible even to hanyou ears. Inuyasha forced himself not to react as the window slid open and crisp autumn air seeped into the room. Feigning sleep, he strained his ears for the smallest of sounds and had to sink his fangs into his lower lip to keep from making noise.

There was a rustle of fabric. No, he corrected himself after a moment. Not fabric—petals. So tonight's offering was another flower then. He couldn't smell it, but that hardly surprised him. His room was a goddamned floral shop these days. His ears twitched as they picked up another sound. Was that…whirring? He frowned. That was _definitely_ whirring. A memory of beating hummingbird wings came to mind, but he brushed it aside—though not before hoping that he wasn't being gifted with one. He didn't care _what_ Miroku and Sango said about it—there was no way in _hell_ he was going to keep a damn bird.

A soft tinkling sound refocused his attention and Inuyasha decided that now was a good time as ever to make his move. In a heart beat's pause he was on the other side of the room. Instinct propelled him forward, and without thinking, without _seeing,_ he snapped his hand through the open window and grabbed the small shadow that was trying to make its escape.

"Gotcha," he crowed as he reined it in.

He looked at his quarry and froze.

In his clutches was the smallest person he had _ever_ seen. It— _she_ —was no taller than a foot. After a minute of staring wherein the visual information refused to compute, he realized that the thing was struggling in his grasp. It took him another moment to come to the realization that his grip was a bit on the unforgiving side and he slowly relaxed his hand. He kept it firm enough that he wasn't squeezing the life out of her, but not so loose that she could escape. He figured he must have gotten the balance right because she eventually stopped struggling and slumped into his grip, shoulders low in defeat.

Inuyasha had no idea _why_ that image bothered him, but it did. He cleared his throat, drawing the eyes of his little captive, and questioned gruffly, "If I let you go will you escape?"

The little creature hesitated, then shook her head.

"Alright, then," he murmured. He shut the window and locked it, because whatever Miroku liked to say about him he wasn't actually an idiot, and slowly opened up his hand, gaze never wavering. She started to fall, and with his heart in his throat he lurched forward, intent to catch her before she hit the floor, but just as he stepped forward the wings he'd completely forgotten about started beating, creating that soft whirring sound he'd recognized earlier, and with a small shiver she drifted upwards so that she was at eye level.

Inuyasha could do nothing else but stare. _This_ was who'd been leaving him all those things? Who was… _courting_ him?

In the time it took for his mention functioning to recalibrate itself, the creature had stopped glaring at him and seemed to lose what indignation she'd possessed. She kept peeking up him shyly through dark eyelashes, and when she cocked her head as if to ask _are you alright?_ Inuyasha finally, _finally_ grasped what had been niggling at the back of his head for some time now.

She was _naked._ And he'd _touched her._

"You're _naked,"_ he exclaimed. Hastily, he looked towards the ceiling and demanded, "Goddammit, put some clothes on, would you!"

There were so many things he wanted to ask, wanted to _know,_ but he would much rather their conversation be held when _both_ parties were completely clothed. He could almost hear Miroku sigh disappointingly at him, but dammit, Inuyasha was _not_ a pervert.

There was a soft noise which sounded eerily like a sigh of exasperation and then a… _pulse._ That was the only way he could describe it. It was warm and it disturbed the air in the room and smelled like the earth after rainfall and wild flowers. And then something poked his cheek and he looked down—

—and found himself gazing into the tiny eyes of his apparent admirer.

He took a step back, bothered by the close proximity, and gave a small sigh of relief when he realized she wasn't naked anymore. He scrutinized her odd choice of clothing—it seemed like she'd wrapped herself in a flower petal held together by a cut of vine—and had to wonder where she'd been carrying it. And then promptly dismissed the thought.

"So," Inuyasha started awkwardly. In hindsight, he probably should have taken into consideration what he'd say to his culprit _after_ he'd caught her. So many questions were scrambling for freedom at the back of his throat but he couldn't bring himself to spit out any of them. What was he supposed to say now? _Hey, so I know you've kind of been courting me and I'm flattered, really, but it's just not going to work out, so let's be friends?_ His ears flattened in dismay. This was why he always left matters that required eloquence to the others.

The thing—whatever the hell it was—smiled broadly and tucked a tuft of black hair behind her pointed ear. Inuyasha absently noticed that it was shaped like a leaf.

He expelled a massive breath and scratched the back of his neck as he rocked to the balls of his feet. Maybe he should ask her name? That was probably a good place to start.

"Uh, what's your name?" he fumbled.

That earned him an even brighter smile. The creature opened her mouth and let loose a soft tinkling sound that reminded him of wind chimes. Which was nice and all, except he _couldn't_ _understand her_.

"I have no idea what you just said," he admitted, feeling dread rise in his gut. Things were awkward enough without there being a language barrier.

The creature blinked and her mouth fell open in a tiny _O._ Her face scrunched in concentration and she said, "A-apologies. I'm not accustomed to speaking in human tongue. My name is Kagome."

"Kagome," Inuyasha repeated, surprised by the undercurrent of chimes he could hear in her words. Her voice sounded like music. Like song, even when her words were clipped for speech.

A red hue overtook the tiny face and she nodded eagerly.

"Right. Um, I'm sure you know my name already…"

Her giggle sounded like ringing bells and the whistle of wind through leaves. "Inuyasha," she affirmed. The way she said it, breathy and enamored, made _his_ face burn. Never in his two-hundred and thirteen years of life had _anyone_ said his name that way. Not even Kikyo, and at one point the two of them had been…

Inuyasha steered that thought elsewhere.

"Right," he repeated. After a moment of awkward silence (at least on his part, because his _guest_ looked perfectly content to stare at him) he cleared his throat and folded his arms. He shifted, and the floorboards creaked jarringly, so he stopped.

"I'm so glad," the creature said suddenly, shattering the silence.

Inuyasha started. "Uh, about what?"

With a nod, she floated towards him and placed a tiny palm, no bigger than the end of a thumbtack, to rest on his shoulder. Her silver eyes were wide and Inuyasha could detect pride there. "That you've accepted my suit," she said, solemn words a stark contrast to the happiness she was emitting. She practically _glowed_ from it. "Mother and grandfather didn't think you would, but I had to hope. It is both relieving and invigorating to know that my suit did not go ignored."

Inuyasha stared at her incomprehensibly until the jumble of words he'd taken in sorted themselves into something resembling Japanese. And then he blanched.

His yelling woke the entire house.

* * *

— **+—**

"This," Miroku said slowly, violet eyes fixed on the small creature perched on Inuyasha's shoulder that was stroking his hair with a look of rapture, "might be a problem."

Inuyasha, fingers drumming against the kitchen table, leveled him with his best _no shit_ look and reminded himself that neither slamming his head into the table nor brandishing Tetsusaiga and hacking everything in sight would settle the issue.

"So they're…getting married?" a bleary eyed Shippo asked from Sango's lap.

"No," the creature— _Kagome_ , who turned out to be a fucking _woodland faery_ —rebutted absently. "We're officially courting now."

"So Inuyasha can break it off whene—" he froze when the faery glared at him icily and with a frightened whimper turned to bury his face in Sango's chest, his bushy tail tucked between his legs. Inuyasha didn't blame him—the whole room seemed to drop several degrees in her anger.

"We would appreciate it if you didn't scare Shippo, Kagome-san," Miroku said mildly, undeterred by the mounting tension in the room. "He is only a child, after all. He doesn't know better."

 _That_ apparently did the trick. Her mien visibly dissolved to one of understanding and with a final tug of Inuyasha's hair she flew towards the cowering boy. "My apologies, little kitsune," she said. "I reacted rashly."

"Why, if I may ask?" Miroku cut in. "Your reaction to Shippo's inquiry seemed…disproportionately severe."

Kagome turned towards him. "Of course. Even _suggesting_ that the intended rescind from a courtship before the _twilight cull_ is of the highest offense. It's an insult to the intended's integrity and a challenge to the value and credibility of my claim."

Inuyasha translated that to mean that there was no way in hell he was getting out of this the easy way. A shared glance with Miroku confirmed he was not alone in his assessment.

"So…what's this _twilight cull_?" Sango inserted carefully. Despite the tired slump of her shoulders her eyes were alert, studying the faery with an intensity that was unnerving. To those who knew her, it wasn't hard to figure out that she was feeling protective over her friend.

Inuyasha wasn't sure whether to feel comforted by the evidence of her regard or disgruntled that she felt he needed protection…even if he was beginning to think he actually might.

Before answering, the faery returned to her place on Inuyasha's shoulder. He resisted the urge to squirm or knock her off. "On the second phase of the moon to the day the intended accepts the suit," she recited, "when the sun takes its last breath and shadows claim the sky, the intended shall hold their courter's heart in their palms and choose."

"So you're saying that Inuyasha essentially has two months to decide whether he wants to, ah, marry you?" Sango translated.

The hand stroking his hair momentarily stilled. "Marry? That's a human rite, is it not? Well, we don't have such things. Successful courtships end with a mating bond initiated and finalized through coupling. On the third night a banquet is usually held in celebration through the combined efforts of the mated pair's family, in which we receive blessings and gifts."

" _Coupling_?" Shippo said aloud, trepidation forgotten for the time being. "Like _sex_? How are you goi—"

To Inuyasha's immense relief, Sango quickly clamped a hand over the kitsune's mouth. That was something he absolutely did _not_ want to know. Remembering that there was someone in the room who likely _would,_ Inuyasha turned his deadliest glare at Miroku, who subsided with a muttered, "Prude."

"So what happens now?" Sango cut in before Inuyasha could retort. "That, uh, Inuyasha's accepted your suit?"

Inuyasha bit his lip to keep from protesting that he hadn't accepted _anything_. How was he supposed to have known that by trying to catch the damn faery he'd set a fucking _courtship_ in motion? His sullen thoughts were interrupted when Kagome said,

"Now that my intended has recognized my intentions I will proceed to prove to him the merit of having me as a mate." With a beat of wings she fluttered to the table and sat with her legs tucked beneath her. Not for the first time Inuyasha had to marvel at how _tiny_ she was. He'd seen dolls that were bigger. He could actually _crush_ her if he wasn't careful enough, and the thought made him uneasy.

"He already has my heart," the creature continued, glancing shyly up at Inuyasha, "and now I must convince him that I am worthy of safekeeping his."

It was too much. Inuyasha balked at the intensity of her gaze, at the hope and determination he could see simmering there, and looked away. As claws dug indents into his skin and the smell of blood wafted in the air, he considered bolting. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to handle this. This wasn't an enemy he could overcome with a sword or a situation he could snarl his way out of. It couldn't be solved by his usual methods of letting Miroku play diplomat until the problem disappeared.

There was a reason he adamantly avoided romantic entanglements. There was always too much at stake. Unlike physical wounds, emotional injuries were not so easy to heal. They left scars that ached with phantom pains regardless how much time passed. If there was anything he learned from his relationship with Kikyo, it was that.

"If I may ask you a personal question, Kagome-sama?" Miroku asked suddenly.

"I'm entitled to refuse, but yes, you may."

"Why Inuyasha?" he asked, unknowingly echoing Inuyasha's thoughts. "I don't intend to offend, but even you must be aware of the…disparities between your species."

The silence went on long enough that Inuyasha was sure she wasn't going to answer. So when she finally did, he startled.

"He saved me, once."

Inuyasha's eyebrows shot up and he spoke up, "What? I don't remember that."

Black curls bounced as Kagome shook her head. "You probably wouldn't. I was but a sapling then, and you no older than a child." She inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. "It was my sixtieth summer and I'd ventured too far away from my home in my wanderings. I was lost. In my ignorance I chose to search for my family rather than wait for them to find me. I made it to the outskirts of the woods before I succumbed to exhaustion and transformed, and was discovered by human children.

"They chased me for what seemed like hours. I thought I was going to die. But then a boy with hair the color of spider silk saved me. He chased away the human children, lifted me from where I'd fallen on the ground, and tucked me onto a tree branch so that I'd be safe. Not long after my parents found me and I was brought home."

Inuyasha's breath stuttered when she opened her silver eyes and offered him one of the gentlest smiles he'd ever been on the receiving end of. "I've _never_ forgotten. When I was old enough to travel outside woods on my own I searched for you. It wasn't until my ninety-second summer that I found you again, and I've been watching over you ever since."

Her gaze did not waver, and Inuyasha found that he could not look away. There were so many _emotions_ swimming in her eyes, too many at once to possibly decipher, but the whelming passion made his breath catch and his heart clench and the walls around them tighten. Only when Kagome mercifully looked away could he breathe again.

"I hope that answers your question," she spoke to the monk. "My family has never forgotten his act of kindness, either, and so they do not disparage my choice. They will warmly accept him as kin if he wishes to be so."

"I see," Miroku murmured, before lapsing into a thoughtful quiet. Silence reigned; no one seemed to know what else to say.

Until Shippo blurted, "Wait, you can _transform_? Into what?"

The faery visibly perked up and graced the kitsune with a pleased smile. "I can. My transformed state is a silk moth."

Shippo's eyes widened and he leaned forward, his tiny claws spreading against the tabletop. " _Really_? Can all faeries turn into moths?"

"All _woodland faeries_ ," she corrected him, "can transform into a single animal or insect, which is unique to the individual. Some, like me, are moths, but others can take alternate forms. For instance, by mother's form is a butterfly and my brother's is dragonfly and my grandfather's is a blackbird. My father's was a mouse. It varies."

"Can you show us?" Shippo asked eagerly. He looked delighted when he prompted a tinkling laugh from the faery.

"Sure," she agreed as she rose to her feet. Her gaze flicked towards Inuyasha for a moment before she inhaled slowly and before his eyes began to transform.

"Incredible," he heard Sango murmur as the humanoid figure shifted, expanding in some places and condensing in others. In another breath the faery he knew was gone and in her place was the largest moth he'd ever seen.

"You look like a butterfly!" the kitsune exclaimed, crawling onto the table to get a closer look. Behind him, his tail swished. "So pretty!"

Inuyasha, for his part, was staring at the moth in confusion. There was something almost _familiar_ about it. He couldn't place it, but it niggled at the back of his mind, heavy and insistent. Bracing himself on his forearms, he leaned forward and studied the unbelievable being that was scampering across the table, it's massive black wings with their golden trimming fluttering like a butterfly poised for flight.

After a moment of scuttling away from Shippo's persistent fingers it flapped its dark, translucent wings and soared towards him, landing on his outstretched hand with a tiny shake. It moved in a circle, eliciting a tickling sensation against his skin, which in turn brought forth a memory he hadn't thought about in years.

"It was you," he blurted, memories of past tragedies flickering in his mind. There were several occasions when he vaguely remembered seeing a moth of that same shape and coloring, though the one that stood out the most was the day of his mother's burial. Forced to listen to a stranger talk about his mother's life as if he'd known her and surrounded by people who'd never been particularly kind to either of them, he'd very nearly lost control—of his temper, his self-restraint, his demon-half. And then a moth—tiny then, no larger than the butterflies that swarmed the fields, with wings like obsidian that reflected sunlight—had landed on his clenched fist; distracting him, consequently stabilizing him, essentially reining him in.

Such a tiny thing, but it had acted as his anchor. He'd meant to take it home with him when the ceremony was over but it had flown away, sailing the winds like his estranged family told him his mother had done.

"At her funeral," he continued, wide-eyed and unsteady, feeling… _something_ clench in his stomach. "It was _you_."

The not-so-little moth vibrated once, then grew. Solemn eyes the color of moonshine looked up at him, and after a moment, the creature inclined her head. "Yes. My kind rarely interacts with yours, and I was young still, but…you needed me. I did what I could. I'm sorry that I couldn't do more."

Strangely, Inuyasha had the sudden urge to laugh. He bit his lip to keep the inappropriate response from spilling out and covered his eyes with his palm, feeling cornered and overwhelmed. Silence stretched around him, uncomfortable and taut. The only thing he was aware was his shallow breathing, the heavy thudding of his heart, and the creature who'd started the mess perched on his hand.

"Inuyasha?" said creature tentatively asked.

"I'm fine," he snapped, answering her unspoken question. He sighed harshly and shook his head as if to clear it of the heaviness that had set in. It didn't work.

"Sleep." He rose to his feet, jostling his—his _suitor—_ and nearly knocking her off. With an indignant yelp she clutched at his sleeve before flying to perch on his shoulder, though not before sending him a disgruntled glare. Which Inuyasha ignored. If anyone had the right to be angry it sure as hell wasn't _her._ "I'm going to sleep. See you all in the morning." And without a backwards glance he stalked out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, which he leveled in a single leap.

"Are you angry with me?" Kagome asked the moment they were in his room and the door was shut behind them.

A sardonic bark rushed forward, but he fought it back. He was too fucking tired to argue and rage like a part of him wanted to. What he wanted _more_ was to collapse in his bed, nestle under his covers, and forget the last five hours ever happened.

He crossed the room in four quick steps, stopping when he was scant inches away from the window. Wordlessly, he pulled it open.

Taking the hint, Kagome jumped off his shoulder and landed on the ledge with a soft _thud._ She watched him with wide, worried eyes. Her hands fluttered at her sides like she wasn't sure what to do with them. Or, Inuyasha guessed, she knew but wasn't sure she'd be allowed to.

"Inuyasha," she started, then stopped. She tapped her foot, inhaled, and squared her shoulders, visibly gathering strength. "Inuyasha. I realize it's a lot to take in right now—"

A bark of mocking laughter escaped. He couldn't help it.

"—but," she continued determinedly, "it'll get better. I'll _make_ it better. I'll prove to you that I'm worthy enough to be your mate. To shelter your heart. I—"

"Just go," he demanded, patience wearing thin. His eyes never left her, even when hers shuttered with hurt and she flinched back, as if his word were a physical infliction. He immediately felt guilty, and hated himself for feeling that way.

"I can't—look," he sighed, feeling the fight, the energy, the _everything_ that was keeping him upright, bleed out of him. He slumped and leaned into the wall, utterly drained. "Just. I need to sleep, alright? We'll talk…tomorrow. Or something." Next week, or _never,_ would have been preferable, but he wouldn't hold his breath. He glanced up at the pebbled ceiling and ran his claws through his hair. "So…goodnight, I guess."

He looked down, hoping to gauge her reaction, but the ledge was empty of all except a sliver of iridescent moonlight and the small, yellow flower she'd left behind earlier.

She was gone.

* * *

 ** _to be continued._ **

* * *

**Author's Note:** My three year old niece made me watch _Peter Pan_ with her and somehow this happened. I'm not even sorry. Anyway, the next chapter should be up soon-ish. I don't expect this story to be very long—maybe 3 or 4 chapters, tops.

 **P.S. -** I based Kagome's transformed state on the male promethea moth. I was going to go with a butterfly, but that seemed too…cliché. So I chose a moth that looked like a butterfly instead. Because I'm oh-so clever. OTL

 **P.P.S –** You probably noticed the bit about Sango being a "devil" exterminator. In this universe, devils are either non-sentient or low-level demons incapable of reason or compassion. I won't get too into it since they're not a major part of the story, but I felt weird calling Sango a "demon exterminator" when most demons have become integrated into human society. Devils are the less-intelligent and highly dangerous cousins of demons, if that makes sense.

 **Thanks for reading! Please drop a comment and let me know what you thought about it!**


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